The Three of Them
by Starr Rose
Summary: A series of one shots from the show Bad Education featuring Francis Grayson, Mitchell Harper, and an oc.
1. Chapter 1

"Today, class, we're going to talk about complex relationships."

"Ay, mate, for the last time, your relationship wif Ms. Gulliver ain't complicated. It's non existent," Mitchell sneered from his usual seat in the back.

"Oy but your relationship wif Moira is better?" Chantelle was quick to come to Alfie's defense. "Better not to have one than to share her wif a psychopath. Shakespeare said dat."

Jing muttered angrily under her breath and Alfie's eyebrows rose. He asked quickly, "What's that about sharin' your gal wit Grayson?"

Ignoring the fact that he instantly knew Grayson was the school psychopath, Mitchell threatened, "Ain't fuckin' nuffin'. Keep your shitty lil noses outta me business or I'll empty your fuckin' bank accounts into a charity for gay eskimoes to get bum heaters for their cocks."

"He and Grayson are datin' the same girl. Moira Margaret," Joe spoke up, eliciting an evil glare from Mitchell. "I ain't got a bank account."

"Your parents do," Mitchell scorned.

"No way!" Alfie climbed onto his desk, rested his elbow on his knee and his chin on his fist, and grinned at Mitchell. "Tell me which little gypsy wants to date you and Francis the Firelord."

"She ain't a fuckin' gypsy and it ain't none of your fuckin' business," Mitchell growled. His usual jovial demeanor was fading quickly and those around him were considering ways to get away. Mitchell was a twisted little shit but his usual forms of cruelty didn't do long term physical damage. Emotional and financial? Yes. But rarely physical. It ranged from posting your photo on a most wanted page to pilfering funds from your bank over the years, rarely the same person twice in a month; he was a hacker, not a monster. And he was notorious for violent dares and touches of violence, but he didn't do long term damage. The victim would be fine within a month.

"Let me get her facebook up," Stephan interrupted, his hands already frantically typing on his phone. "She's the next Jo Rowling, or Sylvia Plath, or Jane Austen. She's in advanced classes, she vacations in the Americas, and they say she made an Oxford professor cry in front of an entire classroom because she told him his dissertation was a pile of rubbish and contemporary American writers have a better thought process with their shit romance novels."

Mitchell smirked and said appreciatively, "She made her Chinese tutor piss himself. Told him that if he didn't stop making mistakes she'd fuckin' water board him like the Americans do in Guantanamo Bay. She had to get a new one. Fuckin' great."

Stephan handed Alfie his phone and Alfie looked from the picture of an elegant blonde playing a violin, up to Mitchell, and down to his phone again. Stephan said excitedly, "That's a silk champagne gown! Silk! And it's not wrinkled. She wears it like sunlight."

"Fuckin' right she does," Mitchell agreed. "D'ya wanna see one of her naked? Got a real good one of her last week in the baf tub."

"No, Mitchell. Like I tell Chantelle almost every day, that is illegal." Chantelle pouted up at him. "How did you convince her to go with you?"

Mitchell shrugged, "Just did."

In reality, he knew exactly how. He was hiding out in the poolroom because he managed to nick Fraser's phone and he was sending vulgar texts to everybody in his contacts list. He was up on the diving board when he heard the door to the lady's room open. She couldn't see him but he could see everything. Usually he considered girls talking pussy but she wasn't. He could see that from across the room and up on the platform. She glowed. Her blonde bob reflected the light back to him and her skin was a soft tan from vacationing in Florida. The white bikini she was wearing stood out so that he could see every line. He watched her stretch, twisting and elongating her body, rotating limbs, and lifting things above her head. He got half a chub watching her lift that leg up and over. Then, she got a running start and dove into the water, her body bowing so that she entered cleanly, without a splash. Her body broke the surface of the water cleanly.

He crawled to the edge of the diving platform fast so he could see her flash by in the water. She surfaced at the half length and then swam the rest on the surface. For ten minutes, he watched her do laps around the pool, completely oblivious to his presence. She swam to one end of the pool gracefully, rotated in the water, kicked off the side, and swam back to the other end. When she rotated in the water, her bikini would slip down a little bit. Not enough for him to really get a shot of anything but enough for him to imagine. But then, he got bold and he made a mistake. As she surfaced from the water, he raised Fraser's phone to take a picture and it slipped from his fingers. He winced as it tumbled down into the water, splashing, and alerting her. She stopped dead in the water and her glowing green eyes focused on him instantly. He expected her to scream, to shout for someone, to get out of the pool, and run. Instead, she said in a calm, cold tone, "That was a mistake."

Her accent was posh, crisp, and clean and her voice was a dark rasp, like somebody who smoked for way too long. He just watched her as she swam to the edge, climbed from the pool, and walked to the diving platform ladder. It was only when she started climbing that he realized he should stand up instead of staring like a retarded monkey. But it was too late; there was no escape. She made it to the top and he could focus on her barely covered chest in all of its well developed glory.

"Take off whatever you want to keep dry," she commanded calmly.

"What?" All the blood in his brain had taken residence in his cock.

She sighed in annoyance. "Shoes, socks, jacket, and pants. The pants only if you're wearing something under them. Are you wearing something under them?"

"Uh huh."

"Good. Shoes, socks, jacket, and pants, then. Take them off."

A hot bitch was telling him to take his clothes off. There wasn't a question in his mind as to why. It didn't matter why. He just wanted to get naked in front of her and potentially get her naked. He wanted it so freaking bad that his cock throbbed. He just obeyed the dripping girl in front of him, earning an irritated eye roll. When he was down to his shirt and boxers, his cock very clearly standing at attention, she walked over and shoved him over the side, very calmly and very quickly. He remembered right before he hit the water to curl in on himself and protect his spine. He still hit like Remdog falling from a tree. He sank in agony next to Fraser's cell phone. By the time he resurfaced, she was gone.

Luckily, Abbey Groves' student files were fucking stupid easy to hack and, with her hair and eye color and approximate age, he narrowed it down to ten and picked her out of the lot based on her picture. Moira Margaret Miller, age 15, daughter of Professor Harry Miller and cancer researcher Mary Miller. It was no wonder her name was fucked to hell and back with parent names like that. With that information, he had her facebook, email, and resume at his fingertips. Moira Margaret Miller. Progressive parents, followed American, British, Australian, and Chinese politics. New ager parents who wanted their daughter to have and do whatever she wanted, which was why she was in a public school. She felt that private schools were too prestigious and meant nothing in the long run because it allowed prestige based on name and not effort. She spoke four languages and was working on five and six. She was a published poet, an aggressive MMA fighter, and a lover of filthy humor. She was hot and perfect and completely out of his league and he decided that she was going to go with him.

It took him a week to work up the courage to approach her. But he finally learned her schedule and made his way to her locker. He made it just in time to hear her tell a third year football player, "Not if you were the last man on Earth and you'd stolen all the batteries."

It made him laugh and get half a chub at the thought of her using all the batteries in the world on herself. But it was also discouraging. Luckily for him, Mitchell was not one to be deterred. So he opened his mouth and said confidently, "Ay there, fancy a shag in the water closet?"

She turned to stare at him with one eyebrow perked up in an amused manner. She asked, "You know, I've won fourteen out of sixteen fights I've been in, right? Three were KO in under ten seconds. That means that I hit three girls so hard that I knocked them out immediately as the fight began. One of them was two weight classes bigger than me. You're about two weight classes bigger than me."

"Only record I'm concerned wif is how long it take you to shout me name."

She snorted and replied, "Okay, pool boy. You've caught my attention. Seven o'clock Friday night at the Italian place by that shitty McDonalds. The one where they found the rat in the sweet tea last year. You pay this time. If it goes well, I pay next time. We'll see about that shag some other time."

She closed her locker and just walked away from him. And he accepted it and the date was amazing. She cussed like a sailor but she was elegant and smart and she made him feel like he had something worth sharing. And, at the end of the night, she kissed him at the door and told him she'd see him at school on Monday.

"Okay, so acknowledging the fact that you've managed to land Jing's white twin." Jing glared dangerously at Alfie. "Why do you share her with Grayson? How do you share her with Grayson?"

"Monday- Mitchell's dick. Tuesday- Grayson's dick," Chantelle taunted.

"Ain't fuckin' like that so shut your fuckin' slag mouf," Mitchell growled. Stephan put his hand over Chantelle's as a warning. He shook his head at her quickly. "Look here, Moira Margaret ain't me property. She don't belong to me and she can do what she want wif her body. I like that she spends time wif me. She likes to spend time wif me. And she also likes to spend time wif Grayson. That's her business. It works out for all of us. I ain't bitchin'."

"You don't think it's weird that she's shagging the both of you?" Alfie demanded.

"He's used to watchin' his mum do it for ages. Shit, Moira Margaret's calm about it wif only two of them," Rem Dogg jeered from behind Mitchell. Mitchell turned and glared but he didn't snap at him like he did everybody else. The back and forth between Mitchell and Remdog was daily. It was what he was used to.

"And none of them are his dad," Alfie joined. "Anyway, how does it work?"

"It just fuckin' does. Shouldn' you be usin' your problems to teach us about World War two or somefin'?"

"**You** actually want to learn?"

"If it makes you fucks stop talkin' about me girlfriend, then yes. I want to learn whatever shit you want to teach us today."


	2. Grayson's Way

After class, Mitchell went directly to Moira's locker. Grayson was already there with her, leaning against the locker at her side and smirking at something she was saying. Mitchell wrapped his arms around her waist and dragged her backwards into his body. She went willingly without stopping what she was saying to Grayson about a new way to build Molatov cocktails. When she'd finished her sentence, she tilted her head back to look at him and asked, "What's wrong, love? You look upset."

"Just right pissed. Tossers runnin' their mouf in Whicker's class."

"About what, dear?" Her hands settled over his and began massaging them gently.

"Shit Grayson and I will be takin' care of, Moira. Don't you worry much."

"Don't kill anybody," she warned. "I'm going to be in the library for the afternoon. I've got food stashed if you get hungry. Grayson, sweetheart…" He perked up when she turned her attention to him. Before, he'd been focused on figuring out why Mitchell wanted to beat the tar out of Alfie Whickers. "try to go to class today, right? Don't skip all of them."

"I'll make it to a few," he promised.

She grinned at him and he leaned forward to press his lips to hers. Mitchell glared at anybody walking past who had the audacity to stare at them, though it was an interesting picture. Mitchell was a little taller than Moira and his chin rested around the area of her ear. She was leaning back into his arms with her hands over top of his and Grayson was leaning forward to kiss her. He pulled back and she tiled her head so Mitchell could kiss her too.

"I'll see you later, boys," she said as she pulled away. "Try to behave yourselves."

Grayson grunted and Mitchell answered, "No promises."

When she was gone, Grayson nodded down the hall. "Aye, we 'ave an audience."

Mitchell turned to see Alfie and Joe staring at them. Grayson sneered, "Fuckin' cock ticklers gettin' excited."

"Nah, mate, those're the shitheads we need to have a chat wif. They got an opinion about Moira and us."

"Do dey now? Well, if dere's anyfing I learned from Pickwell, it's da importance of education. So let's educate some fuckin' twats."

Alfie and Joe didn't have the sense to run as Mitchell and Grayson stomped towards them. Alfie winced. "Hey there, Grayson, Mitchell. You seen Rem Dog, Mitchell? Just lookin' for him."

"Empty room, now," Grayson scowled, pointing at one to the side. Alfie and Joe sighed and walked into the classroom with Mitchell and Grayson close behind them.

"Aye, now, me colleague 'ere tells me dat you lot got your nose where it don't belong," Grayson spoke up, glaring at the two of them in his open eyed stare.

"Mitchell!" Alfie exclaimed.

"Look here, sir, you run your mouf about Moira, she's not happy. She's not happy, we're not happy, get it?"

"And she ain't gonna not be 'appy. So listen 'ere, ya cunts," Grayson spoke up again. "You're goin' to keep your trap shut and leave us out of your class conversations from now on. Any questions?"

"Yeah," Joe spoke up. "How did you two get Moira Margaret to date either of you. Forget about the fact that she's datin' both of you."

"Ain't none of your fuckin' business, mate," Grayson and Mitchell spoke as one.

"Do you even know how you got her, Grayson?"

"Fuckin' aye, I do, mate. Just because I fuckin' 'ate you lot don't mean I'm not a damn good guy for me girl!" Of course, in the beginning, Grayson had been turned down a colossal amount of times by Moira.

After failing three classes, he was assigned a tutor through the school. He wouldn't even have gone but Pickwell had some information about a fire he might have or might not have set and she was blackmailing him. It was a tutor or back in the pen. So he decided that it benefited him to show up to that fucking library at five o'clock. She was the first thing he saw as soon as he walked in. She was sitting up on the windowsill with her phone at her ear and the light reflecting off of her hair. And she was ripping whoever was on the phone apart.

"Listen here, you fucking cunt, if that money isn't in my bank account by three o'clock tomorrow, not only am I going to fly there and kick your ass, I'll also sue you. I can be in Florida by Wednesday, you piece of rubbish. Don't make me show up and take that money." She hung up the phone and tossed it to the side, raising her eyes to Grayson in the process. "Hello, Grayson."

"'ello dere. Who were you cussin' like dey don't have a muvver?"

"Grayson, if you're going to talk, please do so as if you do not have a wad of chewing gum stuck to the roof of your mouth."

"What in da hell do you want me to talk like den?"

"You are missing the sound 'th' in your vocabulary. It's the one where you press the tip of your tongue to your teeth and exhale while you move your tongue down away from your teeth. See, teeth has one in it."

"I know what way I want to move me tongue."

"Right, well, let's get to work." She hopped down from the windowsill and made her way over to the table, gesturing for him to join her as she sat down.

"I don't fuckin' want to do shit. I'm just 'ere 'cause I 'ave to be. So get dis straight, I ain't doin' shit."

"Oh, you're going to do stuff, Grayson, or I'm going to kick your ass. See, I get paid whether you do anything or not, but I get a bonus if you pass your mock exam in Pickwell's class. So you're going to learn because I'm going to cram science down your throat, do you understand, love?"

He just stared at her. She was sitting prim and proper with her legs crossed at the ankles and a smile painted across her face. But he knew smiles like that. He had smiles like that. Predator smiles. Smiles that meant somebody would get hurt if they didn't do what he wanted.

"And just 'ow da fuck do you plan to do dat?"

He didn't know if it was sexy or scary how quickly she had him in an arm bar with his face pressed down against the table. It seemed like one second she was standing up to walk over to him, and the next second, his arm was twisted behind his back and he was slammed onto the table police style. She leaned forward and murmured in his ear, "You will do the fucking work in here. We can make learning fun, or I can twist your arm every day and recite the information into your ear. Which do you prefer, dear?"

He grunted and tried to ignore the semi he was sporting. She whispered, "A grunt is not an answer, Grayson. Which do you prefer?"

"Fuck, da first one! Jesus Christ, da first one!"

"Good." She released him easily and moved around the table while he rubbed his arm.

"Where da fuck did you learn dat?"

"I'm an MMA fighter, Grayson. That person on the phone that I was 'cussing like they don't have a mother' was an agent in Florida who owes me some money for a fight. I take three things very seriously, Grayson: education, my money, and my job. So let's get to work."

She sat back down and pulled out the science book and he actually listened to her. At the end of the hour, she promised, "Next time, I'll plan for something violent and explosive. How's that, dear?"

"Dank you." He showed up on time to the next tutoring session and she let him draw the cell respiration on her arms and legs. He said it was like giving her a "lame tat." It was his favorite way to learn biology though.

It was three weeks before he asked her out. He was drawing the bones of her arm and listing the simplest ones to break when he said casually, "Come to da pub wif me tomorrow night. I know you don't 'ave a fight or event. Me bruver can get us fakes to get in."

"No thank you, Grayson."

"And 'ow come?" He stopped labeling the ulna and stared up at her.

"I already have plans. Keep drawing."

"Do you got a guy you go wif den?"

"Nothing serious, not that it's your business."

"Should be. Let me take you out."

"Grayson, you are a violent psychopath with arsonist tendencies and the attitude of a pretentious swan."

"Don't mean I'd be bad to go wif. Be a right good one to go wif."

"That may be so, but it's not going to happen, Grayson. Plus, I'm your teaching aide."

He grunted and resigned for the time. A week later, he tried again.

"What you do after dis?"

"You're missing a word, Grayson." Moira Margaret was searching for the box with the frog she'd caught for him to dissect. She'd convinced the janitor to let them in the science lab and had decided to work on inner workings. She could have obtained an already dead frog from the science lab but she knew he wouldn't go for it. So she caught one from the garden, killed it with fumes from some chloroform her mom had laying around, and brought it in for him.

He rolled his eyes and repeated, "What **do** you do after **th**is? See, even used da th."

She ignored the lack of pronoun and answered, "I stop by a petrol station and pick up some fish and chips to eat on the coach home."

"Well, today, I'll take you to Nando's for dinner."

"I'm not going on a date with you, Grayson."

She found the box and stood up. He objected, "Full of yourself, ain't you? I dinnit ask you on a date. I told you I'm takin' you to Nando's. Do you consider dat a date? Shitty date, innit?"

"You're the one who's asking me to go with you. Here's a frog, here's some instructions. Go at it."

"You're going to let me cut dat up?"

"Yep. Get to work."

"You are literally da best woman I've ever met in me life."


	3. Threats and Video Cameras

It went the same way for a month and a half, but, over that time, they got to know each other a little better, day by day. Grayson learned about her MMA fighting and her affinity for vulgar humor, and she learned about his family and his love of pyrotechnics. The week after his mock exam, Moira was sitting in the library's windowsill cross legged, reading and listening to music. He snuck in quietly while her attention was elsewhere and crept up to her. She really wasn't paying attention because she usually caught him trying to sneak around.

When he realized she hadn't seen him come in, he rushed her, making his way in front of her before she saw him and grabbing her face before she processed what he was doing. Before she could object, he leaned forward and slanted his mouth over hers, pressing softer than she ever thought possible of Grayson. He just stood there for a second, his hands on the sides of her face and his lips pressed against hers. Then, he pulled away and she opened her mouth to ask him what the hell he thought he was doing. He saw the opportunity and took it, leaning forward to press his open mouth against her open mouth and kissing her again, this time with a touch of tongue while their lips moved against each other's. Finally, he fully pulled away and she asked, "So what was that for?"

"I passed me mock exam! Pickwell burned da evidence she 'ad against me!"

Moira laughed and replied, "You could have just told me that. You didn't have to kiss me."

"You snogged me back so don't give me piss for dat."

"You're right. I suppose I did. Congratulations on passing your exam, Grayson."

Because he still had her face trapped between his hands and because she was still staring at him, he kissed her again, and again, and again.

"Point is, you lot need to watch your mouvs or we'll have to smash some cunts," Mitchell growled.

"And Ra ain't round all da time, chicken dipper. So dink about dat 'fore you try dat argument," Grayson warned.

"Ra? You have nicknames for each other?" Alfie spoke up, attempting to appear tough. "What does she call you, Frankie? What about you, Mitchy?"

"Mitchell and Grayson. We don't need no faggot nicknames. Innit dat right, Alfie?" Grayson grinned dangerously and Alfie took a step back.

"Look, sir, we just need you to stop talking about Moira Margaret. Cause we can take care of this ourselves, or we can tell her about it. Grayson'll just kick your ass. Moira Margaret will kick your ass, take your job, and make your life hell."

"I'm not afraid of a girl," Alfie sneered.

"Alfie, it's the only person Grayson's scared of. Innit a bit smart to stay on her good side?" Joe whispered.

"I'm not afraid o' 'er, you twat. I just know better dan to mess wif 'er," Grayson argued. "Mitchell's da one scared o' 'er."

"Whatever. She put you in an arm bar the first time you met her. Right kicked your ass, she did."

"Oi, shut up, you fanny. We're dealin' wif dese knobs now. We can talk about what Ra does or doesn't do later."

"Point is, fellows, Moira is off limits from now on, got it?" Mitchell refocused.

"Right," Alfie promised.

"Good. I've got shit to do," Grayson growled.

Mitchell and Grayson turned and left the room. Once outside, Mitchell asked, "You takin' Maggie home today?"

"Thought you were."

"We bof can."

"Right. You goin' to see 'er in da library?"

"Nah. I'm gonin' to go find Rem Dog."

"Fuckin' queer."

"Fuck off, you know I'm givin' it to her good."

"Yeah, dat why she comes to me?"

"Ay, you were second, remember that one, Grayson."

"Wank off, you knob."

With a few other parting jabs, Mitchell went to find Rem Dog and Grayson went to hang out with Moira Margaret in the library.

At exactly one thirty, Grayson and Mitchell were called down to Pickwell's office. Standing outside the door, they stared at one another. Mitchell asked, "What did you do now?"

"Didn' do nuffin' dis time. Nothin' dey can prove, least. What about you?"

"Nuffin' since I took those computers from Middleton last year."

"So why'd we bof get called den? Ain't broke anyding wif you."

They looked in the window and froze. Mitchell sighed, "Oh shit. What's Maggie doin' in there?"

"Don' know but she looks right tossed. We do anyding might got her in trouble?"

"What would we have done would have got her in trouble, you penis?"

"I don't fuckin' know. Come on. We better get in there and deal wif this before Maggie blows her fuckin' top."

Grayson and Mitchell opened the office door and Grayson led the way. Moira Margaret looked up from her glaring match with Pickwell. Pickwell said in her stout manner, "Boys, sit down."

"Moira, we dinnit do nuffin."

"Trust me, I know you didn't," she said crisply, glaring at Pickwell. "That's now that this is about, loves."

"Ugh," Pickwell snorted. "Hellians."

"Cunt," Moira Margaret spat back.

"Ms. Miller, watch your mouth when you speak to me."

"I don't watch my mouth when I speak to those beneath me."

Grayson and Mitchell looked at one another and then took their seats on either side of Moira Margaret. Pickwell glared at the three of them and ordered, "Ms. Miller, don't sit in the middle of them. The three of you are strange enough as is.

"We ain't movin'," Grayson sneered. "She stays dere, we stay 'ere."

"Mr. Grayson, the three of us are going to have a decent discussion and you are going to participate like civilized young adults instead of the usual monkeys you are."

"We'll participate alright, sir, but we ain't gonna be civilized if you make her move. She stays there," Mitchell spoke up.

"Fine, you little miscreants. Let's talk about the fact that the three of you are engaging in sinful, indecent acts against God."

"Oi, we ain't got Moira Margaret involved in nuffin' we been doin'," Grayson objected.

"I'm talking about the fact that she's dating the both of you, you ignorant piss ant."

"And what is wrong with that?" Moira growled. "We're not breaking any school rules."

"'cept dat time in da school water closet," Grayson snorted. Mitchell leaned over and high fived him, laughing while he did it.

"What was that?"

"Nothing you can prove," Moira replied quickly.

"You lot are the reason I keep lobbying for video cameras in the halls."

"Yes well, our relationship isn't against school rules, unless you've got evidence against us you can't hold us, and if my parents find out about this, they're going to lose their minds."

"If your parents found out that you're dating the school psychopaths, surely they'll lose their minds."

"My parents find my relationship a fresh exploration of my youth and sexuality so that won't work. They adore Grayson and Mitchell, they find them refreshing and creative. We all have dinner once a week. Find another threat, you minger."

"Ms. Miller, I do wish you would be more elegant with your insults. These two idiots are rubbing off on you."

"Look, let's cut this short. If I'm persecuted at this school, I can request to be transferred to a boarding school. There are a few in the area that would like for me to attend. Of course, if I'm transferred to a boarding school, that does mean I won't be home for Grayson and Mitchell to visit, and if they can't visit me, they're going to be rather upset, isn't that right, boys?"

"Ravver upset, Pickwell," Grayson agreed. "Might not be able to control me aggressive tendencies."

"Mmhmm. Don't know what I'd do wifout Moira Margaret here to keep me calm," Grayson agreed. "She's a calmer for us."

"The two of you will behave with or without Moira Margaret."

"I think we'd be too upset," Mitchell chimed in.

"Innit it dangerous to upset a psychopaf?"

"Fine. Seriously though, how in the hell did the two of you," she glared at Mitchell and Grayson, "convince her to date the both of you? I understand that young girls go for psychopaths at least twice in their life. I've had a fair share myself."

"Ew."

"Weren't you the psychopaf, miss?"

"Shut up, Mr. Harper."

"Listen, our relationship if none of your business or any person in this school's concern so we'd appreciate it if you'd keep your nose out of our matters."

"Was the fight last year caused by this?"

"Which fight last year?" Grayson asked.

"The one between you and Mr. Harper. Was it caused by this relationship?"


	4. Ultimatums

The fight was caused by the relationship. It started when Mitchell found out from Lee Will that Grayson took Moira out on Friday and they ended up back at his house. On Monday, he went straight up to Moira at her locker, slammed it shut (making sure not to hit her), and demanded, "Did you go out wif Grayson on Friday?"

Moira looked up at him with her eyebrow raised, clearly annoyed that her locker had been slammed in her face as she was trying to retrieve her chemistry book. "And if I did?"

"Well, ain't we been seein' each uver?"

"Yes, we've been going on dates and fooling around at my house. Mostly because you refuse to invite me back to your place."

"Ain't havin' you think I live in a caravan."

"I don't think you live in a caravan, Mitchell. I wouldn't care if you did. I don't have a problem with gypsies."

"Don't matter. This ain't the point right now, Maggie. Are you goin' wif me or Grayson?"

"I'm not "going with" either of you, Mitchell. I'm exploring my options within the Abbey Grove social realm."

"What?"

"I'm seeing you separately. We've never discussed being exclusive, Mitchell. You assumed. You shouldn't assume, dear."

"I assumed 'cause you been snoggin' me and foolin' round wif me for free months now!"

"Yet I did not once state that I am or was your girlfriend. Now kindly move so I can access the locker you slammed shut in my face."

"I'm goin' to fight him."

"You're going to get your ass kicked."

Mitchell snorted and took off towards Grayson's usual hangout near the stairs. Moira Margaret watched him for a second as if she were considering going after him, then turned and went back to searching through her locker. It was fifteen minutes before the cell phones started buzzing in her chemistry class. She looked up at the teacher, annoyed that nothing was being done about the twenty cells ringing simultaneously. She growled, "Do none of you wankers know to turn your phones off in class?"

"Grayson's goin' to kick Mitchell 'arper's arse. They're fightin' in the school lobby. I 'ear Grayson 'as a knife!" One student yelled, started a chain reaction from the others. There was nothing the teacher could do. The students rushed the door. Moira Margaret sighed in irritation. Even the teacher rushed out. She continued the equation she was working on until a shout from the hallway sounded. A student rushed in and shouted, "Da fight's spreadin' dis way! Mitchell's actually 'oldin' 'is own."

"And?"

"And dey're bof already bleedin'!"

"Chemistry class isn't going to start again until this fight is broken up, is it?"

"Course not!"

"Fucking cunts!" Moira slammed her pencil down onto the table and stormed out into the hall. There was a large circle gathered in the hall. She stared at it for a second before she started making her way towards the front of the crowd. She could be tracked by her voice. "Get the fuck out of the way, you fucking idiot bastards."

Anybody who didn't move got a quick jab to the pressure point until she made her way to the center of the crowd where people were centered around Mitchell and Grayson. At the time, Grayson was straddling Mitchell, pinning him to the ground by his knees on his shoulders and hitting him in the face as hard as he could. Grayson's mouth was pouring blood and a gash above his left eye had it almost completely closed. Mitchell was smirking up at him while Grayson hit him. He laughed, "Fuckin' girl."

"You two, what the fuck do you think you're doing?" Moira Margaret's voice froze Grayson in mid swing.

"I'm fuckin' beatin' a knob."

"Knew you were a fuckin' faggot," Mitchell sneered.

"You're both fucking daft." Moira reached out and grabbed Grayson's arm to pull him off of Mitchell.

He shrugged her off and growled, "I'm doin' somethin' right now, Ra."

"Get off of him or I'm going to arm bar you again."

"Ra, don' fuckin'…."

"Fuckin' stupid move, dumb shit," Mitchell snorted.

Moira reached out and grabbed Grayson by his throat. Before he had a chance to react, he pressed her thumb and forefinger against each side of his Adams apple and pulled upwards and back. He let out a strangled yelp before he rose up with her hand quickly. Mitchell snorted and Moira commanded, "You too. Up, dumbshit. Now."

"You're missin' some words dere, Moira Margaret," Mitchell replied, grinning through his blood filled mouth.

"If you don't get your fucking ass up off that floor right now and come with me, I'm going to hurt you."

"Now, Moira Margaret, you need to learn to…."

He didn't get to finish the statement because Moira reached down and wrapped her hand around his testicles. She squeezed hard and Mitchell squealed in agony. She released him and commanded again, "Get your ass moving."

Still holding Grayson by his throat, she turned and the crowd parted around her. Mitchell followed after them, sneering at anyone who looked at them wrong. She led them to an empty classroom just as Pickwell appeared, screaming about students being out of class. In the classroom, she slammed and locked the door behind her quickly, muttering "Thank God for teacher cuts" while she did it. She turned to the two as Grayson raised his fist threateningly to Mitchell and Mitchell motioned for him to hit him. She ordered, "You two, fucking quit it now. We're going to talk about this."

"What's to talk about? You were fuckin' 'im while you were seein' me!" Mitchell snapped.

"One, I didn't 'fuck' anybody. Two, neither of you own my body and I owe neither of you anything. And, three, I didn't tell either of you that our relationships were serious. I refuse to behave as if I'm owned by another person."

"We went on like seven dates!"

"What? You actually went on dates wif dis helmet! We ain't never gone on dates!"

"Dats cause you ain't important."

"If the two of you don't stop arguing, I will kill you. Now let's discuss why the two of you are so angry."

"Ain't talkin' bout nuffin' in front o' 'im." Mitchell growled.

"Suck it up, you knob. Moira Margaret, I ain't pissed at you. I'm pissed at 'im for dinkin' he could kick me ass. You need to get dis shit taken care o'."

"So you're fine wif her fuckin' whoever she wants?"

"Least she's seein' me."

Mitchell rolled his eyes and turned to stare back at Moira. "Look, you need to explain to us what's goin' on."

"Fine. I like spending time with you, Mitchell. I also like spending time with Grayson. What's wrong with me spending time with both of you?"

"Because it ain't right to do that, Moira Margaret! Jesus Christ!"

"Why isn't it right?"

"It's just not right. You know we all know it ain't right!"

"You don't think it's right because people have told you that it's not right. But, that doesn't mean that it's not right. It's just beliefs that have been forced upon you."

"Ain't da only thing been forced on you, is it, choir boy?" Grayson chimed in.

"Shut up, Grayson."

"Grayson, hush. Look, I can either date both of you or neither of you. I like you both and I'm not going to allow you to be childish about it. We won't play the 'which one do you like better game?'" With that, she stood up, smoothed down her skirt, and left the room. Mitchell looked over at Grayson, who was staring at him calmly and coldly.

"Look 'ere, mate. Moira Margaret's a good ting for me and you're fuckin' it up. Do you want to go wif 'er?"

"Fuckin' duh."

"Den stop bein' a fuckin' girl about it. If da only reason you don't want to go wif 'er is because she's datin' somebody else, den you don' really like 'er, you like da idea o' ownin' 'er. And dat's fucked up." Mitchell just stared at him for a long moment. Grayson growled, "Look, you wanker, just because I ain't talkin' like it all da time, don' mean I ain't smart. Just fuckin' dink about dat and den, when you pull your fuckin' 'ead out o' your bum, go tell 'er dat you changed your mind."

Grayson stood up and left the room solemnly. A few seconds later, Mitchell heard a scream from the corridor. After a good deal of thought, and a lot of glaring from Grayson in the hallways, he decided that it would be better for all of them to continue letting Moira Margaret do as she wished. Despite their first skepticisms, it worked well for all three of them. Moira Margaret brought the two of them closer together and helped them develop into better students and people.


End file.
